


the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams

by Nervouslaughter508



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Curses, Inspired by Princess Mononoke, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Multi, Violence, let tedros have friends 2k2k, tedros just needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervouslaughter508/pseuds/Nervouslaughter508
Summary: In which Tedros, in no particular order; loses a throne, gains a curse, falls in love, ventures into the unknown, witnesses a war, and bids a rueful farewell to who he once was.or: a princess mononoke au but with a twist. or multiple.
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Chaddick & Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Nicola/Sophie (The School for Good and Evil), minor Tedros/Tristan |Yara| (The School for Good and Evil), past Agatha/Hester (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 31





	1. In Which Tedros Meets The First Coven

**Author's Note:**

> with elements from: macbeth, yes, the shakespeare play, Princess Mononoke, yes the studio ghibli movie, over the garden wall, yes the 2014 cartoon network animation, and the Hunger Games, strangely enough. it works, promise. no prior knowledge of these pieces are needed to read :) 
> 
> an excessive amount of miski, the lord huron album ‘strange trails’, piano covers, leftover Halloween candy, and late nights were put into the making of this au. 
> 
> i own nothing here but the writing

THERE IS A RUMOR, ducking around the castle, around the corners, crevices, and little darkened rooms, that there are witches in the foyer. 

No one knows how they got there. No one knows what they want. But _everyone_ knows that witches are hardly a good thing in Camelot, and after their former queen, witches are something that could be considered ‘taboo’. And people who reside in the kingdom do not use that word easily, considering the tense political atmosphere. 

The newly crowned King Tedros takes no notice of the gathered servants, nervous guards, and whispering advisors. He has bigger things on his mind. When he woke up in the morning, several letters for an audience made themselves known from the villages and towns in Camelot. There have been attacks. 

There are always attacks, but one should never grow accustomed to such horrible news. Especially the proclaimed king. 

The witches also take no notice. They glide into the throne room, with their quiet steps and dark shawls. They take no notice of the silence that comes with them, the whispers of the court, the King slumped over a letter and his crooked crown. 

“One is uh, really short, she looks like she could be from the villages,” an excited page whispers to a serving girl, peeking out behind a pillar that can fit the two of them. “One is really tall, and one is _lookingatusrightrightnowshit-_ ” 

The king starts and puts down the letter he was reading as the throne room doors slamming shut and looks up at the gathered witches. He looks too tired and too old for his age, the freshly crowned King. 

“Are you the representative from Shazabah?” He asks, feeling foolish for even asking. “You’re early. And ...women.” 

The witches laugh, a scary, sweltering hiss. “No, Your Highness. We’re representatives from The Forest.” 

“I wasn’t aware I had an audience with you today.” Tedros says, a subtle cue. 

Chaddick, his head knight, jerks his head to the right, and the shuffle of armor echoes as the guards position themselves on the left and right side of the room.

“No need for that.” the short one says smoothly. “We just have a little affair that the.. King... needs to be aware of.”

Tedros motions down with his hand, curiosity peaking. “What is it?” 

“There is a war coming.” The tallest speaks for the first time. “And unless the villages are destroyed, everything else will be.” 

The air turns tense as soon as the words leave the hags lips. Tedros feels a weight settle, on him, and specifically, his heritage. 

Camelot is the only known kingdom with a King from the villages, and a Queen from the forest. Tedros parents. His father’s death and mother's abandonment had not helped the alliances between the two, that was certain, but a war would be the shattering of the kingdom itself. 

The King sits up. “Please elaborate.” 

The coven exchange glances. “Nothing needs elaboration. The villagers are hurting the Forest. Unless they are gone, the Forest will be.” 

Matelon, his fathers old advisor has been inching up to the throne, and he kneels next to the King. “Your Majesty, I think we should hear them out.” 

Tedros considers this and chews the inside of his cheek. “I speak for Camelot when I say that no harm will come to the villages.” Tedros decides, waving away Matelon. He looks upset. 

“And what about the Forest?” The one the left demands. Tedros opens his mouth, but her sister waves her away. 

“No bother. Your Majesty, we feared you would reach such a conclusion. We have a little something prepared for you.” 

Chaddick reaches for his belt, and Tedros tenses as well, they’re always in sync, the King and his knight, but none of them move. In fact they have become scarily still, none opting to blink, fixing Tedros with a yellow stare, like spotlights. 

“For your reluctance to pick a side, we will give you one. You will find yourself in the very forest where your _wench_ mother came from, and from there you will return to the dirt where you came from, and you _will_ join your brother and sisters as an Ever tree.” The witch in the middle declares coldly, raising her arms, all but a snowstorm in the throne room. 

“We have spoken.” The tallest says.

A dark fog wraps around the King, who stands up abruptly. The witches are like they arrived, with a whisper and a horrible feeling in the heavy atmosphere. 

Chaddick yells out orders while Tedros sinks in his seat, feeling his throat to assure his head is still secured on his neck. He feels misplaced. Chaddick’s hand rests on his shoulder, always by his side, rooting him back to the present, but that’s not it. 

His father's crown feels indescribably heavy on his head. 

* * *

“No argument about it,” Matelon tells the gathered court, standing at the head spot of the table. “His Majesty cannot stay.” 

“Oh, absolutely not,” supplies another advisor, this one older and gruff. “We are the only thing uniting the Forest and the villages. If the people learn the King must make a decision between the two, the hostility between the two will only rise, and may even result in a war.”

“What will we do with him?” asks a younger advisor. “He’s only been king for three months. He doesn’t have a heir, or any other relatives. The best we could do is a regent.” 

Matelon bows his head. “I accep-” 

Tedros raises his hand, feeling hot and cold all at the same time. 

“I’m still here,” the advisors look at him, rather bored at the notion of the boy King speaking- already. They would never treat Arthur like this. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Matelon asks, as if this isn’t his kingdom, his council, as if he’s the same prince who would doodle flowers and gnomes and trees in the margins of the bills and dozed off twenty minutes in. 

“Maybe this is an opportunity.” Tedros offers. “I can go find the source of the attacks on the woods, and find a cure to the curse.” 

The advisors pause, minds working around this. 

“And if you don’t?” The red headed advisor sitting next to him asks, fidgeting with her right hand. 

Tedros eyes her, softer. “Then I return to the dirt from where I was born.” he quotes, disliking the feeling of the words on his tongue. 

The advisors and the court exchange glances. A candle erupts in smoke, subduing the King's face. 

“It is decreed.” The oldest announces. “His Majesty has a month, and if he doesn’t return, Camelot shall suffer the loss of another King.”

He leaves early, if not to avoid the pitiful looks and Chaddick, who pushes aside a knight to unsuccessfully catch him. 

He has to pack for his sentence.

* * *

The stars and the moon are out on the fields and the garden as Tedros leaves out the castle that night with a bag and a billowing riding robe. 

He casts one more look at the castle, with all it’s peaks and shingles that pierce the sky and feels tremulous loss, not of the castle itself, but of the boy who was at home here, the boy he never really got to be. A goodbye to Chaddick and his other friends would be too much, too early, too accepting of reality, and so Tedros tries to take his horse and ride out silently, through the passage in the garden only he knows. It won't be long. It can't be. The Forest is where his mother came from and ran to, there are sure to be witches there who can reverse the curse. He's thought this through.

He's out of options, anyways. 

“Tedros!” He hears, and turns the horse. His heart disloyally soars. 

“What are you doing?” 

The red headed advisor chases after him and pants after catching up, cheeks red. “I wanted to give you this. For luck.” 

“Yara, you can’t be out here-” Tedros whispers, looking around the ground nervously. 

“I don’t care about that,” she dismisses. “No one saw me. I _can’t_ believe you would leave without saying bye.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tedros says honestly. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to say goodbye and set it in stone. For good, at least.” 

Yara shakes her head desperately. “You can’t say that Tedros. You’re strong, and you're good, you’ll find a curse breaker. I know it.” 

Looking at her, Tedros can only try not to crumble completely. He tightly smiles and chokes out “I’ll try my best.” 

She presses a silvery white chain into Tedros palm and wraps his fingers around it. “It’s witch's jewel ivory,” she explains. “This one used to be my grandmothers, she was part witch. She used it to find her pack of witches.” 

“I can’t accept this then.” Tedros declines, but she shakes her head. 

“No, please. Just so you don’t forget me. Us. And maybe find your pack, or return.” she says, looking up with hopeful eyes. 

“You’ve been a great friend to me.” Tedros tells her. And maybe even more. For she had been one of Tedros closest companions, if not for the years of history between the two. Even after Tristan had gone and Yara came, Tedros never listened to the whispers, for if she had the same butterfly-sweet heart, Tedros had been fond of her. Always too much so. 

Tedros can see himself falling in love with her, with the constellation of freckles, the bright red locks, and the easy smile, the blue eyes and the fidgets. 

And perhaps they do, in another universe. 

“And you, me. I wish you didn’t have to go.” Yara admits. A shiny, wet tear runs down her face, and he reaches for it, but she shakes her head and takes his hand, clearing her throat. “I wish you luck, Tedros.” 

His smile is a sad, tired thing. “I will take it. Goodbye, Yara.” 

As Tedros watches her leave, his chest clenches and he steers his head away. He feels miserably lonely now, even more so now then he did when he became King. He sees himself having a future that he was supposed to have, if not for this damned curse. 

He can hear the sound of his heart pounding through it all, not broken, still whole, if not weighted.

Tedros heaves and forcefully turns his horse, galloping towards where the ground and the stars meet every night. 


	2. Chapter Two:  In Which Tedros is Content to be Forlorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your kind comments! i was very nervous about posting this but your comments sort of eased me into it. very glad you're liking it so far! we've got good platonic in this chapter bc i like the idea of tedros having friends (a thing he never gets to have in canon) but i swear agatha will show up soon!
> 
> chapter title from over the garden wall ferry melody

DESPITE THE LIFE ENDING CURSE, Tedros feels concernedly normal. But when he gets inside his head, every possible ailment is the result of the curse that has already done the damage to him life. His sleeplessness could be an attribute to the curse, or the guilt at leaving his brother behind. Or maybe the awkward sleeping place under a tree on top of a hill, overlooking millions of valleys and dips. 

It is a far better view then the grey concrete courtyard at hom- the castle. _The castle,_ he corrects himself. There hasn’t been a home since his mother and Lancelot left. When Merlin left. Or maybe when his father died. It’s hard to pinpoint when the castle stopped being home and he started finding it in his friends. Tedros expected he always would, but _this_ happened. 

It’s all so surreal. Everytime he rethinks it, it sounds like a story he and Chaddick would tell each other when young. He doesn’t want to think about Chaddick or the ways they used to be. He used to be. Not right now. 

The future is bleak. 

But the present is mildly depressing, so he closes his eyes and dreams of the past. 

_The memorial could’ve been honorable, if it wasn’t for the rain._

_Rain may have made the day beautiful, or somber, but while Tedros has his head bowed to meditate on his dead father respectfully, he’s instead mentally keeping track of that trinkle of rain as it goes down his spine, slipping in through his collar, feeling watched._

_The members of the court are already eyeing him with greed, mistrust, and Tedros felt hot and suffocated._

_He ducks his head and stares down at the ground, in between two empty seats. He’s vaguely aware of people walking away, towards their warm fireplaces. He doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t remember this part._

_“I expected more.” a voice says behind Tedros._

_Tedros turns, surprised. “From the funeral?”_

_His father is standing with folded hands in front of him, head bowed. He looks up with yellow eyes. “From you.”_

_He turns to leave, and Tedros calls out for him, but can’t move in the mud, he can’t move, and suddenly it’s his mother’s back walking away, she was supposed to be sitting next to him but they’re both leaving, and then it’s Lancelot striding away and Tedros screams for them, and they’re walking away and he’s not moving, he’s only sinking, sinking down into the mud-_

_The rain falls and Tedros with it, falling down into the mud, and sinking in entirely._

He wakes up in pieces, still screaming out to them to wait for him. 

He immediately gets up, waking his horse and heading out, still hot, sweating, and wary of his surroundings, cheeks and ears burning, minding his step. 

The past isn’t much better. 

  
  


The sun is rising, shining and pink from the horizon. He’s traveling along the hills that block Camelot from the villages, the rise and falls making a pleasant ride. The town of Jaunt Jolie rises to meet him, red school houses and little farms with striped land. The ground becomes something more solid, one that makes a clink-clomp on the ground. 

Tedros heads down a hill, appreciating the round ripe pumpkins and the bright yellow squash. A farmer harvesting some dead land tips his hat at him, and it hits Tedros for a glorious moment that they don’t know who he is. 

_They don’t know who he is._

He grins broadly at that mere thought and flips his hood down, bearing his face to the sun for the first time in weeks. 

He purchases some rice and an apple and orange from the stalls, and pulls aside to feed his horse out of his hand, while keeping his eye out. The town seems semi- functional, children playing in a tree next to a schoolhouse, horses pulling carts, the general bustle of a town, if not a little worn down. Tedros would usually stay inside the carriage and watch the action from inside. To be part of it is something else entirely, he feels real, like them, not cold and golden. 

He hears something at the end of the alley and turns slowly, aware of he trussles that happen in the town alleys, especially with those who are new to the town. He just got here, can’t he ever catch a break?

He’s in a dark hood, standing there, waiting for Tedros to do something. There's a bow over his shoulder, and Tedros briefly wonders if the Coin has sent someone to finish him off. The Coin is smarter then that, right? They're professionals. They wouldn’t send someone in broad daylight, right? 

“What do you want?” Tedros demands, hand on his sword. 

The stranger flips back his hood, and Tedros feels a rush of emotions, but mostly guilt. 

“Maybe a proper goodbye?”

Tedros lets out a breath. 

Chaddick tries to hug him (or strangle him, it’s a bit blurred) but Tedros is too relieved at seeing his best friend, and angry at seeing his head knight that he reacts strongly. “Why are you here? Do you understand what the term ‘exile’ means?” Tedros demands, pushing his knight back. Chaddick scowls at him. 

“What, you think I would’ve stayed? Without you there, I’m a toy for the court- or the dogs.” He snaps back. “They were planning to get rid of me anyway, I’ve heard Matelon talking about it.”

Tedros immediately dismisses that. "Yara would never. Now you’ve doomed yourself!” 

“Yara and the others got sent away.” Chaddick bites. “I was doomed anyways. If I stayed, I would be _executed_.” 

Technically, Tedros’s captain of the guard is- _was-_ a bounty hunter, with multiple charges that were protected by the Kings promotion- but Tedros is still enraged at the court officials taking advantage of his… his death! When Tedros returns, and he will, out of pure _spite_ , they will all receive the same treatment. 

“Executed? But after the trial and the funeral, the charges should’ve been dropped.” Tedros says, choosing to stay quiet on his new found rage. It could be a side effect of the curse. 

Chaddick kicks the dirt, bashed now. “You should've known you were the only thing keeping us apart. The Coin label doesn’t go away, not really.” 

The Foxwood Coin is an esteemed, fancy, very expensive, mercenary organization. Tedros was only briefly aware of the nobles who hire and are killed by them, until he met Chaddick. Chaddick was hired by a very angry court advisor to kill the prince after his mother left. A witch's son as King would drive the kingdom to ruins. Something had to be done.

It was left out of the bounty that Tedros and Chaddick were the same age. Fourteen year old Chaddick was expecting a regular, older target, not a prince who looked at him with red young eyes and dared him to shoot. He decided to lower his bow instead. Tedros was surprised, numbly so. A faint connection pulsed between the two boys. 

Chaddick was offered a knight status, a role which many young men and women with no home or family were able to partake in. There were rumors, there always were, but King Arthur was too far gone then to really hear them with ears clouded by liquor. 

It was the start of many things, of late night whisperings on the balcony and secretive grins, of competitive duels and sneaking to the kitchen, of pranks with Yara, horseback racing and local fables of witches, warlocks, elves, and giants. Both discovered they were cheated out of their childhood. Both tried to make it up.

Chaddick was his first friend. His best friend. And it hurts what they’ve become, a doomed exile and his knight. Tedros never wanted this for either of them.

“I wanted to go with you. I spent all night trying to find you, until Yara told me you _left_.” Chaddick says, crossing his arms. 

“I’m sorry. I missed you. I just didn’t want to say goodbye.” Tedros admits. “It could’ve been...well, forever.” 

“Why couldn’t you just say that?” A range of emotions cross Chaddick’s face, from irritated to scared to fond to exasperated. “You really need to work on your communication skills.” 

Tedros doesn’t speak, just hugs him, relieved to not be left alone. Chaddick hugs him back, a bit gruffly. “I’m still mad at you, you know.” 

“Yeah yeah, I can live with you being mad, not without.” Tedros says. 

“Then why’d you leave?” Chaddick asks, pulling back and punching his shoulder gently. 

Tedros just laughs, feeling lighter in the chest then he has since that morning. "I don't know what I was thinking." 

And then someone screams. 

The two perk up like hunting dogs and race out of the alley, only to find themselves part of the people in the crowd, who are looking up at one of the schoolhouses. The roof is on fire. Tedros rushes to the front of the crowd. “Are there people in there?” 

A girl sends him an incredulous look. “It’s Saturday.” 

“The roof is one fire!” Tedros shouts, preparing to jump in. 

Chaddick holds him back. “Wait! Someone’s on the roof!” A man slides down the shingles, holding a torch and landing right on front of the boys. 

“There are more coming! Get your torches!” He starts lighting the torches one by one and the people run down the road to the open fields. 

“What’s going on?” Chaddick asks. 

“You! Where's your torch?” The man demands of the two. “Go and get them! You think you can just sit pretty and let the girls do all the work?” 

“We don’t-” Chaddick tries to say, but is cut off by a holler. 

“Go!”

They both take off to the alley where their horses are, and Chaddick mounts his, about to leave. 

“Tedros c’mon, let’s go!” 

Tedros hesitates. “These are the attacks! Chaddick, this is it! These are the attacks I’ve been hearing of!” 

“I think they have it handled now _please_ get on your horse- _shit_! Tedros!” He calls. 

Tedros runs out of the alley, throwing his cape aside and unsheathing his sword. He runs down the hill where the villagers are gathered, all holding out their torches. They run forward, charging, and Tedros is able to make out the antagonists through the thinning of the crowd. 

And that's where Tedros sees his first product of darkness and the Forest. 

They’re made of a bunch of little, squirming creatures, a million worms to make up one snake. They’re slithering with yellow-red eyes darting their heads back and forth. There are three of them, still bucking their heads, circling a woman with a dead torch. They’re even more awful then he was led to think they were. 

Tedros doesn’t think. 

He doesn’t stop to think about the very texture of the snakes, or even the idiocy of slicing a blade through already broken-down matter, he simply sees fresh danger and charges. He’s always needed Chaddick, because whereas Tedros makes a fist, Chaddick makes a plan. 

He sees the idiocy of the metaphorical fist a few seconds later, when his sword slices clean through, and the snake does nothing, but turns on him, a few worms wiggling out of the matter. The woman gapes at him, scrambling away on her hands.

Tedros uselessly brandishes his sword. The snake hisses, darting left and right. The woman is able to run away, now that Tedros is facing the full wrath of the three snakes, hissing maliciously. Fire. Fire! He needs fire! Why didn’t he bring fire?

He runs towards an abandoned dying torch as a snake lunges straight towards him. It is set on fire, but not by Tedros, rather a flaming arrow. 

Chaddick’s horse rears and Tedros can’t help to grin, even though the waves of irritation rolling off Chaddick are very strong. “What is wrong with you? Did you really think a sword would solve the problem?” Chaddick asks, laughing. 

Tedros' smile fades. “Quick, give me that torch!” 

“What?” 

Chaddick's horse bucks and rears, nearly knocking his rider off. Chaddick hardly manages to hang on, but his grasp weakens when he sees what his horse is looking at. 

The two ferocious snakes are beginning to merge gruesomely, little worms combined and stacking up like a deck of cards being shuffled, until the two are towered over by a very-angry snake. A very angry snake who has set their yellow sight on the two boys. 

Chaddick’s horse neighs in protest and leaves, shaking Chaddick off. The already dying torch falls to the ground and extinguishes. 

“This is all your fault!” 

“I didn’t think!”

“Do you ever?” 

The snake looms over them, and they both draw their swords. The snake lunges forward, jaw unhinged, and Tedros can already feel the slimy texture of the worms. 

A torch goes flying over their heads and takes their intended place in the snake's mouth. The entire being erupts in wild flames and the snake lets out a horrible screech as the entirety is set on fire. 

Chaddick and Tedros clutch each other, still terrified of the mega snake, now sombering ash on the ground. 

The same girl from the schoolhouse huffs, blowing some hair out of her face. “Can’t have shit in Jaunt Jolie.” she grumbles, every bit annoyed. 

“Tedros,” Chaddick says, very softly. “I think I’m going to faint. 

And so, he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed!


	3. In Which Two Friends Are Separated and Three Emerge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some what of a filler but important nonetheless! it's been a while since i updated, many apologies, hopefully the next update comes sooner! i hope you guys enjoy.

HER NAME IS BEATRIX. She’s something of a heroine to them now, even though she halfheartedly dodges their thanks and helps support Chaddick. 

“You really tried a sword?” she asks, half laughing as they hobble through the darkening town, Chaddick balanced over their shoulders. “What are you, a city boy?” 

Tedros nervously laughs. “Pff, _no._ We’re just… new in town.” 

“That bit was obvious. Where the two of you staying?” Beatrix asks, shifting Chaddicks weight so she can adjust her lit lantern to light the cobblestone path. An old man plays violin on his porch as a boy and girl share bread. A couple with ash marks sway in each other's arms. The entire place feels authentic and real, and so comfortable in the midst of the vigilance and ash. 

“We don’t know yet. Is there an inn in town?” 

Beatrix clicks her tongue. “Sadly, no. It was burnt down a few days ago. You can stay at our place, my parents have a shed that’s empty. And stables for your horse.” 

They both look at each other, and after a minute of mentally debating, Tedros looks at her with a nod. “That would be great, thank you.” 

Beatrix kicks open the door, letting go of Chaddick to hold the heavily bolted door open for them. “MOM, I FOUND A PAIR OF IDIOT BOYFRIENDS.”

Her mother jumps and drops a plate into the basin. 

Beatrix's mother and father seem more wary of Tedros than Chaddick, with his dark roots, thinner stature, and the darker skin tone. His mother’s qualities, marking him off as a child from the Woods. People from the villages tend to be shorter and more sturdier, not lithe and willowy like the people from the Forest. Villagers tend to also have lighter hair, (like Tedros’ father) blue eyes (also like his father), instead of his mothers dark hair and eyes. He applauds Beatrix's parents on their intellect, but fidgets in his seat until her mothers scrutinizing gaze leaves him to go to bed. 

“So, where you boys from?” Beatrix’s father asks them, as he plops a plate of chicken and bread in front of the two. Chaddick eagerly digs in. 

“I'm Ed. And this is Dick. We're from the inner ring, sir.” Tedros tells him, pointing to the two, looking away from trying to yank the plate to his side of the table. Chaddick tilts his head, but doesn't say anything.

“Sorry about that,” her father says, offering Tedros the corner from a loaf of bread. “We’ve been low on resources. Farms haven’t been doing that good.” 

“How often do the attacks happen?” Tedros asks, pressing his thumbs into the bread and ripping it into two. He hands Chaddick a piece subconsciously. 

“Used to be monthly, but it’s been weekly these days.” Beatrix informs him, sitting next to her father. They look a lot alike, with their choppy blonde hair and sun beat skin, their posture and the way they talk. (Tedros thinks they would be great friends with her, if things were different) 

“We have it a lot better than the lower ring. One village was burnt to the ground.” her father says fairly. 

“People are calling it ‘The Foxwood’ around the other towns.” Beatrix says, eyes something akin to pity. 

Chaddick stiffens. “Foxwood burnt down?” he asks, setting his plate down. Tedros sees his left leg start to bounce anxiously from the corner of his eye.

“Lots of the crop fields and the houses,” Beatrix says. She stands up and begins to pour drinks, still talking. “A lot of people managed to get away, but nowhere's safe these days.”

She plops large mugs in front of them. Tedros sniffs his tentatively, but Chaddick downs his in one gulp. Beatrix’s father whistles. 

“Very impressive.” 

Chaddick offers a grin that’s trying not to be shaky in response. Tedros knows he’s always felt bad about leaving Foxwood, not the Coin, never the Coin (he used to cry about it) but rather his cousins. He’s always somber after receiving letters from them. Tedros can’t pretend to understand it. He’s never cared much for any blood family. Merlin left. Lancelot left. And now in a twisted turn of fate, Tedros left Chaddick. 

Chaddick notices Tedros looking at him and tilts his head curiously. These little expressions and gestures they share, head nods and eye rolls, drumming fingers and bobbing eyebrows are too familiar in an unfamiliar place. Chaddick… doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong here, with the curse in Tedros skin looming over them both. 

Tedros stomach twists with guilt and surrender. 

He’s always been too loyal for his own good. 

Tedros attempts to take a drink out of his mug, but his face sours. It tastes like ash in his mouth. Maybe it’s just the subject, but he sets his cup down. “Where are we sleeping for the night?” 

  
  


It’s awfully reminiscent of the sleepovers the boys had when they were younger. They would lie face to face, in Tedros’ quarters, the balcony or the ballroom, where they would unwrap sleeping mats in the corner and admire the stars through the glass ceiling, the beautiful blue light from the moon. Things seemed simpler back then. 

He wishes Chaddick would’ve stayed back, if not to make Tedros fight with himself inside. He can’t drag Chaddick back down with him, he just can't. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Beatrix says, interrupting his inner argument, and pulls the door shut. 

He doesn’t want to leave him again though, not at all. 

Chaddick is on his back, and his eyelids are heavy. Tedros decides he has to leave now, before he gets anymore attached. 

“I have to go,” he whispers. “Alone. I’m sorry. But this is my burden to carry, not yours.”

He doesn’t think Chaddick hears him until he hears his low voice “I _knew_ you would do this. Why can’t we do this together? We do everything together. We did.”

“This is a curse. My curse. This is the fables we told, not the politics and wars we were trained for. I need you to stay behind, as my knight.”

“What about as your friend?”

“As my friend too.”

“And what should I do as your brother?”

“Don’t forget me,” Tedros answers, and Chaddick lets out a sound like it’s hurting him. “I know.” 

Chaddick starts to cry. Tedros stares up at the ceiling, willing himself not to join him. 

“You’re an ass, you know that? The way you’re just... accepting this. You’ve never accepted anything in your life.” 

Tedros says nothing. All he’s done lately is accept what’s been dealt to him. His mother, his father, the throne, and now this curse. What else can he do? He’s so _tired_. Some part of him wants him to sink into the ground and spare himself of any of the fanfare. No bards will sing, and they shouldn’t. 

“You were my brother too.” Chaddick whispers. 

“I’d do anything that I had to for you.” Tedros says, and he thinks the truth of it is going to swallow him whole. 

“Then come back.”

Then he turns away, shoulders shuddering. He doesn’t want to watch Tedros leave again, maybe for good. And Tedros respects that. 

He doesn’t have to say it’s not up to him if he does or doesn’t. Chaddick always read him perfectly. He lays there for a while before gathering his bags, telling himself that no one can feel so disconnected forever. 

  
  


He shuts the barn door gently, if not to make their parting bitter. He has a feeling it doesn’t do much. 

“I knew it,” he hears. He turns to see Beatrix, fully dressed in trousers and a billowing shirt. She must be keeping watch. Over who, he can't tell. “I knew you would sneak away. You have survivor's guilt. You can’t stick around where you’re allowed to rest. Not for long, anyways.” 

“I have a curse.” he says plainly. He’s leaving anyways. He goes to the field where Isosoles (his horse) is grazing. 

“I know.” Beatrix says. 

He stops. “You did?” 

“Everyone does, really. But yours is obviously not self inflicted. I knew a witch once, I knew her spells and what they looked like. Yours is similar, but more... old. And corrupted” Beatrix says, breathing out.

"And what happened to her? Your witch." 

Beatrix gives him a sad smile. "She left. She was alone here, and witches can't be alone." 

"I'm sorry." Tedros says. He's thinking of his mother, again, and somehow, he's also wondering how anyone could feel alone here in the village. 

"Don't be. It was a while ago." 

"That doesn't make it better." Tedros says, rubbing his arm. 

She looks him over curiously. “Where will you go?” 

“The Forest,” Tedros says. “I have to… I have to find someone to help me. A witch or maybe a sorcerer.”

Beatrix sucks in through her teeth. “Most people just die.” she says with a rushed laugh. 

“I wish I was most people.” Tedros says, melancholy. 

“You might be,” Beatrix says. “The Forest is… not welcoming to villagers. Even weird ones from the inner ring.” 

Tedros laughs. “Right, so I've heard,” they both look at the hills in the distance. Several people pace around, most likely keeping watch. Tedros feels extremely guilty, as if they were watching out for _him_. “I have nothing to lose, really.” 

“What about him?” Beatrix says, pointing a thumb towards where Tedros just left. 

“He’s better off.” 

“I’ve heard that before.” 

“Was it true?” 

Beatrix just shrugs. She might be thinking about her witch. “Still trying to see if it's true. Here,” she hands him a rucksack. Inside there’s a map and assorted food items. “It’s not much but-” 

“It’s enough.” Tedros promises. “Thank you. It’s more than what my… home sent me with.” 

Beatrix looks surprised. “You’re welcome. Good luck Tedros.” 

He rides off, and his mind is racing. Witches seem so human when Beatrix talks about hers, but maybe it was just her humanity shining through. Tedros thinks about his mother riding away as well, and he whips his horse faster, as if to leave the thought on the dirt road behind him. 

It’s dawn when Tedros reaches the brim of the Forest. The trees form a magnificent barrier against the town and what awaits him behind them. His mother told him they were the guards, the protectors, nothing could break them down. The echoes of her voice make him shake his head and continue on. 

Tedros bows in front of the horizon of orange trees that block out the rising sun. “May I have passage?” 

The trees don’t respond, bending towards the sun. And why wouldn't they? The sun must feel very pleasant, up there. The shrubbery rustles in the morning breeze. Tedros feels stupid, but he waits. 

A pair of orange and yellow aspen trees bending towards each other rustle, drawing Tedros attention to them. Slowly, the wind, or perhaps another force is pressing the tall orange crowns of the trees together. They bend, and Tedros rubs his eyes when he recognizes an archway. 

“Thank you! I mean, thank you.” he says, bowing again and leading his horse through. 

  
  


A short distance away, three silhouettes watch him step into the Forest. The archway immediately rightens as if it never happened, sealing him in. Or protecting him. It doesn’t matter, either way. 

“Pity,” One says, shaking their head. “Say goodbye.” 

“Enough pity. Let’s get started.” Their leader says, looking towards the town close to the Forest, the people rising steadily from sleep like the sun itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in beatrix's defense, if i came across two himbos in my small town who are very close and reliant on each other, i would also assume they were boyfriends.


	4. In Which Tedros Becomes Acquainted With The Forest and It’s People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> divy (@thebluxforest on tumblr and insta) made some idllyic, beautiful companion music to go with this chapter! it is so lovely to listen to and it truly sets the vibe for some the chapter, i'm honored to be blessed with it! link is down below, pls give divy the validation and love she deserves!
> 
> https://thebluxforxst.tumblr.com/post/642235464543289344/hi-everyone-this-is-a-little-song-i-learned-to

Tedros didn’t realize how alive the forest could be until he took the first step into the autumn thickness. 

The trees and bushes are exactly where they belong, vines creeping up every tree, orange and yellow and red and brown, and every shade in between is the corresponding pallete. 

There's a narrow beat dirt road, meant to be traveled by foot and not horse. He ties his horse in a clearing carefully, still cautious of the sunset trees. They bristle cheerfully in the morning sun unknowingly. 

Once again, his mother’s old words are in his head.  _ The people of the Forest live in colonies, far off from the kingdom, from the villages. They like their quiet. _ It’s almost hardly Camelot, the distance literal and figurative. 

So he sets off down the dirt road that directly opposes the tall peaking towers of Camelot. It’s almost unsettlingly quiet, like the trees have grown accustomed to noise and chatter and the silence shows. But, despite the aching gap in the air, Tedros feels right in the forest. He feels fine-tuned and awake, despite the shallow hours of sleep he got. 

Maybe his mother walked the same path when she met Arthur.

His mother left when he was fourteen. She had been gone a while, but it was her physical goodbye that had woken up Tedros. His father was a good man to him when he was young, distant but good. He never minded Tedros’s fascination with tales of the fae as a boy, but had eased him into more important things like economics and politics as he got older. Tedros was always sheltered, but he hadn’t realized the degree of it before he met Chaddick. 

His mother was the only constant.

How quickly things can fall apart. 

He spots a small bright blue lizard peeking out under a groove of mushrooms, and a hairless cat peering down at him from its perch in a tree. He nods clumsily to both, like he’s being involved in a secret. They shrink away as Tedros meets the first clearing, where the road was leading. 

And Tedros, stunned to his core, understands why. 

There once was a small little gathering of little huts and houses in tall strong trees. They circle the clearing, connected by bridges and ropes, little buildings stacked on the ground connected to the myriad of treehouses in the air. 

All destroyed and decayed, crumbling. The remnants litter the ground, sharp slabs of wood poking out of the wreckage, ash layering levels. Large holes eat at the once sturdy structures. 

It looks like a war. Or what remains of one. 

He doesn't see the large shape lurking in the trees, but he senses something is off and reaches for his sword a second too late. The figure hurls for him, knocking them both into the dust and ashes. Tedros chokes, winded. 

“What are you doing here? Rubbing it in our faces?” The large shape demands, sounding like a beast and shrill at the same time. 

“What? No!” Tedros yells defensively, landing a punch to the creature's jaw and jumping to his feet. It stumbles back, allowing Tedros to pull out his sword. He doesn’t account for the large mass kicking his legs out from under him in a dirty move and attempting to clobber him with a stone. Tedros kicks his stomach and runs for his discarded sword, but is tackled again. 

His head hits something hard, and the last thing he hears is a girl screaming “Hort, _NO_!” 

* * *

  
  


He wakes up in a dirty and damp cave. There are bright colors shining somewhere above him, and for a second, he thinks his coffin has been placed in a jewel mine. His eyes focus, and it’s a bag hanging on a pike above him with vials hanging out. 

“Oh, he’s up,” he hears faintly. His left ear is killing him. He blearily turns to his side. A girl with dark hair and green skin smiles down at him anxiously. “Hungry?” 

“Where am I? And who tackled me? Did you tackle me?” he demands, sounding weak.

She grimaces. “Oh you remember that huh? Sorry, our scout saw you poking around the old colonies and assumed you were a villager.” 

Thats a lot of words to process. Tedros tries to sit up, but the pain in the back of his head amplifies and causes him to buckle and slump back down. 

“Here, drink this,” She says, holding a vial up to his mouth. Tedros clamps his mouth shut, stubbornly “I’m not going to poison you, don’t you know what a healing drought looks like? She asks amusedly. 

“How... would I know that?” Tedros asks. 

She tilts her head curiously. “I assumed you were acquainted with a witch.” She holds up his necklace from Yara. 

“That was a gift.” Tedros says, upset, reaching out and sitting up. Shakily. His arm weighs him down, and the witch steadies him, and presses the vial to his lips. It tastes like tea, earthy and hearty, and he struggles to breathe until he realizes his head is no longer hurting. 

“Now,” she says, letting Yara’s necklace fall into his palm like liquid silver. “I'll ask again. Hungry?” 

  
  


There’s a small group outside the cave, sitting around a fire boisterously, sharing soup and talking. Fallen trees make benches for them stooped around the makeshift hearth. 

A boy with shaggy dark hair is the first to notice him, offering him an anxious smile. “Hey, you’re up! Broth? I’m Hort by the way.” 

“Say sorry to him,” The girl demands of Hort, steering Tedros to a log. “He was delusional when he came to.” 

Hort rubs his neck “I didn’t know-” he protests. 

“Why was Hort even on scouting duty? He always does stuff like this, have him be the cook.” A blonde boy with sharp ears asks, standing up. 

“Because he’s the most expendable.” The girl says calmly. “And he can’t cook for shit.” she adds. 

“Hey!” Hort says, scowling. “In my defense-” 

“You don’t get a defense after the last time.” A boy with long hair and glowing eyes says snarkily. 

“She looked like a witch.” Hort grumbles, face in his palm.

They’re a traveling pack, like from the stories Tedros realizes with a sad smile. A real one. It makes him miss Chaddick. 

“Here, consider this an apology.” Hort says, offering him a bowl of broth. Tedros takes it gratefully. 

“It didn’t hurt that bad. I think I’m starting to hear better.” Tedros says, sitting cross legged on the thick log. It also helps he can’t remember their fight as anything more then a tussle in the ash. 

“Did you man wolf him?” A girl with her face hidden by bushy grey hair asks, tossing wood into the fire. Red sparks flash up, lighting up the night. It really is getting dark. 

“He looks like a villager!” Hort protests. “You guys said if I ran into one, I was to chase it out of the Forest-” 

“They’re humans Hort, don’t call them its. And you didn’t even do that-”

“Well, I didn’t get the chance!” 

“Hmm, actually, not really,” says the boy with the long hair, ignoring their squabble, looking at Tedros. “He had Forest features, see?”

Tedros sips his soup awkwardly as they all study him. 

“I don’t see it.” Hort says, looking up and loudly slurping up his soup. 

“You’re so daft,” The girl snorted. “You’re from Camelot, aren’t you?” she asks Tedros. He smiles indulgently at her. 

“Perhaps.” 

“Ooh, Mr. Mystery.” she says, sitting back with an inviting grin. 

“Monaaaa,” the elf in the group calls, stumbling out of the cave. “Brone knocked over all your potions and now he has hornsss-!” 

“Oh geez.” Mona grumbles, pushing herself up and rushing to the cave, leaving a halpless Tedros with the two boys. Hort is grumbling as the other one examines his arm, wrapping a sparse white bandage around it. The girl with curly hair ignores them, flipping through a heavy book while sipping her broth like it’s in a mug. A cricket chirps. 

“So, are you guys a pack of witches?” 

The tall boy snorts, tucking Hort’s sleeve down over the bandage and looking across the fire at Tedros. “Right, because I resemble a witch.” 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just grumpy because we have to share a tent tonight.” Hort informs him, testing out his arm. “I haven’t the foggiest idea, I hardly snore anymore.”

“Or  _ maybe _ because you went poking around the brim by the villages!” 

Hort mumbles something under his breath. 

“Bullshit!” 

“Oh come on, you’re overreacting!” 

The other boy's eyes flash. “Oh,  _ okay _ , sorry for being-”

“- a coddling mother-”

“-Worried for your dumb ass!” 

A piece of wood breaks that makes the fire surge, breaking the brief silence. Tedros awkwardly sips his soup. It tastes good, earthy like the contents of the vial. Hort rubs his neck and looks down. “Yeah, fine, you were right. Sorry for making you worry ‘Van.” he pokes at his stew and gives him a bashed grin, which is returned with a roll of the eyes and fond shoulder to shoulder bump. 

Tedros watches them, interested, with a bang of guilt in his stomach. They remind him of Yara and Chaddick at the same time. 

“I’m Ravan. Not a witch, a half demon” he tells Tedros, when he sees him watching. “Why are you in the Forest? And especially poking around the old colony.” 

Hort snorts into his soup as the other three come back to sit around the fire, Brone hornless and seemingly subdued now.

“I was told... when I was young, that a coven could reverse another coven's inflicted curse.” Tedros says, tugging at his index ginger. Voicing it out loud sounds ridiculous, even to himself. Maybe it's because he was reciting his mothers words. The faint thought is sombering in the air. 

Ravens eyes flash again, and Tedros notices that they’re not just brown with gold from the fire, they’re actually rusty red. “Oh?”

“Curse?” Brone asks. 

_ Shit.  _

They’re magic folk, there’s no doubt it'd be easier to tell them then villagers, but the truth is still hard to get out. Tedros ends up in telling them the entire story, starting with the foggy morning in court. He’s subtly preparing his bag at the same time, wondering how it was so easy to lose himself in the company of the group. Will he still be welcomed?

“Wow.” says Vex when he’s done.

“I don’t know where I’m going from here,” Tedros admits. “I’m not- ready to die, or to rejoin the earth.” 

“No one ever is,” Ravan says gravely. The sun is completely gone, and the moon has yet to hover over them. “The forest used to be so much more alive. But then there were attacks in the night, by canons or the snakes, no ones alive to tell, and the only certain thing is that when the people of the colonies died, so did the colony itself.” 

"The snakes had attacked the Forest too?" Tedros asks, stunned. 

"Some parts," Mona affirms. "It hasn't happened in a while, so everyone assumed it was in-fighting. Until they began to attack the villages." 

“Whole damn worlds under a curse, no ones special these days.” Hort says, tossing his bowl to the side. 

“You guys are a barrel of laughs,” Vex says. “The point is, everyone returns to the Earth. From the king-” Tedros gulps “- to the lowliest witch. There’s no avoiding it.”

“Luckily, the Last Coven is real, they’re just extremely difficult to find.” Mona tells him. 

“Yeah, we know them well, don’t we?” Hort says. 

“You do?” Tedros asks, a bit surprised. He guessed the coven would be composed of a group of eldery witches, like the one from that day in court.

“Yes, we camped with them for a bit back in Ravenswood. They’re fun!”

“Yeah, they were, until someone had to ruin it.” Hort says, sending Ravan a dark look over the brim of his cup. 

“Who got involved with the villager girl?” Ravan asks calmly.

“Ok, valid.” 

“It was just dancing though, right? You should’ve seen Mona with Dot,” the elf giggles. Mona smacks him on the back of the head. “OW, hey-!”

“Vex, do you know when to shut up?”

“No!” 

“We haven’t contacted them in a while, but Archane can show you where you’re most likely to find them!” Mona says pridefully. “Her eye is all seeing.” 

“Really?” Tedros says, turning towards the girl with the curly hair on his left. She nods. 

“I’d recommend heading to the heart of the Forest. We’re by the brim here, but you’ll start finding more and more people as you near Avalons lake.” Archane says seriously and a bit shyly, drawing out shapes in the dirt with a stick. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of the lake!” Tedros says eagerly, leaning forward. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate this.” 

Archane, flustered, nods and buries her head back in her book. “You’re welcome.” 

“We can show you the path tomorrow,” Mona offers, picking up the bowls and standing. “We’re passing that area ourselves. We don’t normally stay so close to the edge.”

“I’d like that,” Tedros says, warm and content. Hort is nodding away sitting up, as well as Vex, head slipping down his palm. 

“I’m ok with taking the first watch.” Brone says. The moon is up, and Tedros is surprised by how it feels like it’s been longer, sitting here by the fire with this group of vagabonds. 

  
  


He’s offered a large animal fur, which is accepted gratefully and curls up by the entrance of the cave, so he can watch for the sun rise. He knows where he has to go now, has the beginnings of a plan, all the while the comfortability of the atmosphere has already filled him and been absorbed and giving him something akin to hope. It was nice to be easily included by people he didn’t know the day before. It’s like he’s so desperate to love and be loved, now that he’s close to dying. 

That night, he dreams again. 

  
  


_ A girl in a dark blue cape is sitting cross legged, and they’re somewhere Tedros doesn’t know, a dark blue and green backdrop with a white fog hiding anything else from sight. She’s tinkering with a flower, rather worriedly, pulling at the stem, waving her fingers over the petals to make them change colors.  _

_ Tedros looks around and sits across from her. She doesn’t notice him. She has dark skin, short black hair that curls up at the ends and uneven bangs, with large almond shaped eyes. Her insistent tinkering, (or maybe it’s the way her mouth is pulled into a worried frown, or maybe it’s the swaying of the purple dots), but something about her makes him feel comfortable. He’s afraid to speak, for that would startle her and the mood would shift. He doesn't think she sees him anyways, and thats a shame, because Tedros would love to be seen by her.  _

_ She tosses the flower aside and looks down, towards Tedros’ direction. Her eyes are wet, but Tedros can’t imagine ever seeing her cry. “I’m sorry. I know... I was supposed to be better.”  _

_ He turns, but he doesn’t see anyone or anything, and he looks down, and he’s sitting transparently on his sleeping body.  _

_ They both watch as the grass dances around them.  _

* * *

  
  


“I’M GETTING TIRED OF THIS,” Nicola grumbles, landing on her knees and catching her torch with ease. “Maybe we should walk up to Camelot and bang pots and pans. Get their attention.” 

Her best friend gawks at her. “Where did you come from?”

Nicola begins to explain until she sees a snake lunging for him. She chucks her torch at him (the snake) and watches it go up in a satisfying heap of flames. “There was one on the roof of the pub, and well, obviously Papa couldn’t get up there-” 

Hunter sighs and sits back, clutching at his sweaty shirt. “Right. Well, Camelot would still find a way to ignore us storming Camelot.” 

Nicola heaves and sits next to him, the ash in the air making her nostalgic for snow. “They probably would.” 

They both damper, at the light of the dying flame. 

“At the very least, we’ll be in shape for the game.” She offers. 

Hunter stares at her. 

“Watch out!” Someone screams from the distance. A snake's rearing head is made out over the bottom of the hill and they both panic. 

“Shit, where's your torch?” Nicola yells.

“I threw it!” 

“I threw mine too!” 

Nicola breathes in and out. “Okay. Okay. Hunter, go get help. I’ll hold it off.” 

Hunter looks like she just suggested he kill her himself. “What? No, no. Last time we just got lucky. I’m not leaving you again.” 

“Hunter, I know what I’m doing! You trust me, right?” 

Hunter obviously hesitates. “Don’t ask me that.” He protests. “You know I do-” 

“Then go!” Nicola commands, pushing him back. 

He falls back and runs towards the Central Hall, sending her anxious looks over his shoulder. Nicola faces the hissing snake. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and in. She can smell the dirt of the snake, hear a million squealing worms. The wind runs through her hair. 

Her fingertip lights. 

The snake immediately jerks back. Nicola grins at her alit finger, then at the snake. “Yeah, you don’t like that, do you, you ugly bastard.” Nicola says. She plunges her finger at the snake, who scrabbles back hissing like a pipe. 

Nicola breaks into a run, chasing the snake to the brim of the Forest. She leaps over the gate with her finger bobbing like a candle in the dark. 

“Go, go, get!” Nicola says, the snake stopping as they reach the aspen trees. 

The snake hisses in protest but sinks back when Nicola thrusts her fingertip out. He’s almost in, she’s so close, once he retreats he won’t come back, she can do this again-

But the snake suddenly stops. It stops, so close, and Nicola can feel a cold sweat run down her spine. 

Slowly, she turns. Nothing there. But on the ground, there’s a rush. A million rushing worms attach to the snake she was backing into the Forest, amplifying it’s height and power. Nicolas fingertip is nothing more then a tiny candle light, shaking. 

The snake grows larger as Nicola shrinks, and all she can think is that this, this is what she gets for using magic. Like a _witch_. 

**Author's Note:**

> my sge sideblog is @castorfordean, pls come talk to me about the fic and other funny things, promise i don't bite 
> 
> comments and kudos feed my family and water my crops :)
> 
> [tedros' playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/63nw1XvXALYZBOCbJ3vtca)
> 
> [agatha's playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5waKSxxVvkP3USy6kiQtWB)


End file.
